


Coda

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Series: Just the Three of Us [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Mild Profanity, Pining, Sexual Situations, Unrequited Love, at last, attempted suicide, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 11:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3809128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hello?”<br/>“Kindaichi.”<br/>“How did you get this number? I changed it years ago.”<br/>“Kunimi didn’t change his.”<br/>“And he actually talked to you?”<br/>“I think he only mildly dislikes me now.”<br/>“What makes you think I don’t dislike you?”<br/>“What good would it do?”<br/>“It’s been over for years, Kageyama. We’ve both moved on.”<br/>“We’ve both changed, too.”<br/>“Yeah, we have.”</p><p>It’s been years since he’s talked to Kageyama face to face, but if he said it’s been that long since he thought about his old boyfriend-turned-rival, Kindaichi would be lying.</p><p>And now here they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 30 Day Kagehina Challenge Day 22: Apologize.

The skillet sizzles as Kindaichi pushes around the rice and vegetables he is preparing for breakfast, the steam rising from the pan forming a glistening sheen on his bare chest. He ignores the bead of sweat that trickles down his collarbone and the length of his torso, stopping only for the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

Finally, he inhales stiffly and swipes the back of his hand over his forehead, brushing hair still moist from the shower out of his eyes.

“Akira!” he shouts as he pulls the skillet off the range. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Stop yelling,” comes the weak reply, its owner yawning loudly as he scratches his chest through his ragged, oversized T-shirt. “I’m right here.”

Behind Kunimi is a sleepy-eyed girl, wearing nothing but her underwear and one of Kunimi’s shirts, cooing as he drags her towards the kitchen. “I hope you made enough for three.”

Kindaichi sighs and turns away from his roommate’s latest conquest and says, “I always do.”

He scoops portions into three bowls and stabs spoons into each one. “I hope you don’t mind silverware, um . . .” Realizing that he doesn’t know this girl’s name (and Kunimi probably doesn’t, either), Kindaichi skips to, “Kunimi doesn’t like to use chopsticks in the morning.”

The girl giggles. “Not because he’s not good with his hands, that’s for sure.”

Kunimi scowls and grumbles into his hands, “Do you have to talk? My head is killing me.”

“Don’t be rude, Kunimi,” Kindaichi scolds as he flicks his friend’s ear. “If you didn’t want a headache, you probably shouldn’t have drank so much.”

“You weren’t there; how could you know how much I drank?”

Rolling his eyes, Kindaichi answers, “Enough to not remember the name of the nice girl you brought home with you.” With a sheepish smile, he leaves a bowl in front of all of them before sliding into his spot at the table to hide his inappropriate undressed state. “I’m Kindaichi, by the way. I’m Kunimi’s roommate and occasionally his friend. I’m, um, sorry I’m not wearing more. I didn’t expect company.”

Her eyes rake over him, and Kindaichi swears that he sees her lick her lips. “No problem at all, Kindaichi-kun.” She takes a bite of her food and slowly drags the spoon from her mouth. “My name’s Ishihui Keiko. I hope you pardon the intrusion.”

Kindaichi shudders and shrinks down as low as his height will allow. “No problem,” he squeaks.

“Don’t waste your breath,” Kunimi groans. “He plays for the other team.”

Ishihui’s brows shoot up. “Oh?” With a chortle, she adds, “What a waste.”

“Nah,” Kunimi says, his voice betraying the alcohol that still must be coursing in his system. “He’s sexy as hell, and I would totally hit that.”

Kindaichi turns beet red and dives into his food, deciding he no longer wants anything to do with this conversation. Ishihui seems too dumbstruck to retort, and Kunimi appears to have said his piece, so they finish their meal in relative silence.

When they’re finished, Kindaichi hurriedly cleans up to prepare for the Eight O’Clock Ritual. Kunimi slouches on the couch to watch anime, and Kindaichi has a quiet conversation with Ishihui.

“Ishihui-kun, it was very nice meeting you, but Kunimi has to go to work in an hour, and so do I.” He waits until she understands what she’s saying and gives her a tight smile. “How far do you have to go to get home?”

Her shoulders sagging, she says, “East side of town.”

Kindaichi grabs his wallet from his briefcase and fishes out a few bills. “This should get you there.”

Blinking up at him, Ishihui takes the money. “Why do you do this for him? Is he too lazy to kick me out himself?”

“It’s not your fault he is the way he is,” Kindaichi says sadly, thinking about the days when he didn’t have to apologize for his friend’s behavior. “There’s no sense in _you_ getting stranded here because _he’s_ a jackass.”

Ishihui’s smile is genuine when she says, “You know, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“I’m just returning the favor,” Kindaichi says, not elaborating on the years Kunimi had spent mopping up after Kindaichi’s toxic teenage romance.

Quickly, Ishihui returns dressed and with her personal effects. She bids Kindaichi farewell while ignoring Kunimi, which is for the best, Kindaichi thinks. None of the people Kunimi brings home should ever expect anything more out of him than breakfast and bus fare because he won’t even do that much.

Once they’re alone, Kindaichi kicks the side of the couch. “Why do you have to treat them like that? They’re people, not walking sex toys, Akira.”

Kunimi snorts. “Why do _you_ have to be a bleeding heart, Yuutarou? What has that ever gotten you? Certainly not laid.”

“Or maybe I have some dignity left,” Kindaichi says flatly as he grabs Kunimi off the couch and throws him over his shoulder. “Now, let’s get your smelly ass in the shower before you’re late for work again.”

His breath coming out in a heavy whoosh, Kunimi wheezes, “Yes, mother.”

As Kunimi takes his time in the shower, probably using the last of the hot water, Kindaichi lays out clothes for both of their work days. After attending the same college, they had both been fortunate enough to be taken on at the same company: an accounting firm that specializes in government contracts. It’s steady work and job security if you play by the rules and show up.

Kunimi is already on his second warning. Two more and he’s going to be out of work without a recommendation in a lean job market. As much as he deserves it for how he acts, Kindaichi doesn’t want to see his best friend of over ten years ruin his life any more than he already is.

So they take the train to work, grind out a perfectly mundane day’s worth of work, and head straight home together, as Kunimi seldom likes to hit the bar two nights in a row. Kindaichi wouldn’t let him, anyway.

Heading straight to bed, Kunimi leaves Kindaichi to his own devices for dinner. He cooks enough for himself, for Kunimi’s inevitable midnight snack forage, and for their bentos the next day. He cleans up by himself, as well, but it’s not as if he has anything better to do other than his daily workout.

It’s halfway through vacuuming that Kindaichi feels rather than hears the buzz of his phone in his back pocket. It isn’t Saturday, so it’s unlikely to be his mother, and it’s the slow season at work so not likely to be the boss, asking him to come in early the next day. When he pulls out his phone to check the contact, it’s a number he doesn’t recognize. “Hello?”

“Kindaichi,” comes the voice on the other end of the line. He nearly drops the phone. Though it’s a little deeper than the last time he had heard it, he would know it anywhere.

“How did you get this number? I changed it years ago.”

“Kunimi didn’t change his.”

This made Kindaichi snort. “And he actually talked to you?”

“I think he only mildly dislikes me now.” The voice sighs. “Either that or he’s mad at you for something.”

The latter option is not entirely out of the question, but Kindaichi isn’t willing to admit that. Not to _him_. “What makes you think _I_ don’t dislike you?”

“What good would it do?”

That hangs between them for a long, awkward silence, and Kindaichi hates that he’s right. Already weary of this verbal sparring, he says softly, “It’s been over for years, Kageyama. We’ve both moved on.”

Kageyama breathes rapidly on the other end of the line, and Kindaichi can tell this conversation disturbs him equally. “We’ve both changed, too.”

“Yeah, we have.”

Kindaichi debates whether to just end the call, but knowing Kageyama and his obliviousness to subtlety, he would likely end up calling back. Instead, he goes straight for the kill. “Why are you calling?”

Kageyama inhales sharply, as if not expecting to be asked that. Kindaichi wonders if Kageyama has dumbed down since they last spoke, but he shunts that uncharitable thought away.

“I’ve been released from the national team.”

The ex-volleyball player in Kindaichi cringes at this news. “That sucks,” he replies. “Still doesn’t tell me why I have to know about it.”

He can almost hear Kageyama fidget on his end before he says, “I’m going to be in town for a while, looking for work, and I’ve, um, thought about you a lot.”

“That makes one of us,” Kindaichi lies, ignoring that very morning when he had stopped short of spilling his middle-school drama to Ishihui. “So what is it you want from me?”

“Coffee, maybe?”

Kindaichi stares at the phone before sitting heavily down on the couch and turning on the speakerphone. He doesn’t trust his ability to hold on with his shaking hands as he mulls over this prospect.

After eight years of separation and seven of not even speaking, Kageyama breaks the silence after all these years and asks him out for coffee? If he said the whole thing out loud, he would start laughing even before he finished.

“Kindaichi?” Kageyama repeats a few times before grumbling about stupid mobile phones and their shitty reception. Of course he doesn’t consider the idea that Kindaichi has nothing to say to him. That’s something emotionally healthy people do, and Kageyama’s always been anything but that since the day they met.

Groaning into his hands, Kindaichi says, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Kageyama. I have work and Kunimi to look after.”

“Oh.” Kageyama is quiet for a moment before he asks, “Does Kunimi usually need you to take care of him? It doesn’t sound like him.”

“It’s a long story,” Kindaichi says with a yawn. “Sorry.”

Kageyama clears his throat. “Um, well, if you don’t want to, I understand. I just really want to see you.”

Kindaichi’s brows raise in surprise. “You _are_ different. You’re almost normal now.” Though he knows there is a good chance of him regretting this, he harrumphs and says, “Fine. When are you available?”

“Whenever you are,” Kageyama says quickly, his words squashing together. Kindaichi smiles involuntarily as he recalls that this is how Kageyama is when he’s excited.

“How about Saturday at ten?” Kunimi will be abed with his Friday night sex partner, and Kindaichi will be the only one up. He can leave them breakfast in the fridge and meet Kageyama, instead. With the morning’s affair fresh in his mind, it sounds more tolerable than explaining his weird relationship with Kunimi to the next cast-off lover.

“I’ll be there.”

After bidding their awkward farewells, Kindaichi stares at the phone long after the call ends, wondering just what he’s agreed to.

 

* * *

Kindaichi ruthlessly roots through his entire wardrobe for a half an hour before he can decide on what to wear for his coffee date with Kageyama. A T-shirt seems too casual, and a button-up too formal. At last, he decides on a dark green polo shirt and khakis. Though he knows Kageyama won’t notice, it will at least appear like he hasn’t spent as long as he has on deciding what to wear.

He arrives at the designated place ten minutes early, Kindaichi settles down at a table in the corner. At exactly 9:59, Kageyama walks into the shop and Kindaichi’s heart nearly stops.

The only thing that looks the same is the hair.

Kageyama now sports a heavier jaw and thicker brows on his always handsome face. His frame, once thin and lithe, is now broad and powerful in its thin fabric cage as muscles play against the cotton of his T-shirt. Even through his jeans, Kageyama’s thighs were thick with coiled strength.

He isn’t just well-built; he’s _beautiful_.

When he spots Kindaichi, Kageyama gives him a ghost of a smile before his cheeks turn pink and he looks away. Kindaichi nearly laughs because it’s the most familiar thing he has seen of this new, twenty-three-year-old Kageyama.

But he isn’t here to tease Kageyama, so he gets up and meets Kageyama at the counter to order. “Hey,” he says simply past the lump in his throat.

“H-hi,” Kageyama stammers before chewing on his lower lip. His gaze rakes over Kindaichi, and now they both get a turn at embarrassment.

Forcing himself to breathe evenly, Kindaichi orders his coffee and indicates for Kageyama to do the same. They both glance back and forth from one another and the cashier when it’s time to pay until the young lady behind the counter politely suggests that they pay separately. They do but are both quick to drop a couple hundred yen into the tip jar.

When they both have their drinks, they return to the table Kindaichi had procured and take turns not talking between sips. Finally, Kindaichi sighs and breaks the stalemate. “So, you were on the national team?” When Kageyama nods, Kindaichi says, “I heard Oikawa-san made the national team, too. Did you play together?” With a chuckle, he adds, “That would’ve been a sight to see.”

Kageyama shakes his head. “No. Oikawa-san’s last year on the team was before my first. He broke his ankle during a serve and never made it back on the team.” To Kindaichi’s surprise, Kageyama looks distressed at this piece of information. “I wanted to see him play one last time. He’s always been the player I wanted to be.”

“I know,” Kindaichi agrees softly. “That’s what held you back for so long, trying to be someone who wasn’t you. I know I didn’t really start getting better until Iwaizumi-san pulled me aside and told me if I didn’t focus on me instead of getting back at you, I would never do either. Of course, he always liked you, so it took me a while to see he meant that to help me and not you.”

Kageyama glares at his coffee. “Kindaichi, I — I will never be able to explain how much I regret making you feel like that. I did a lot of growing up at Karasuno, and if you didn’t know it before, I really am sorry.”

Kindaichi watches in fascination as Kageyama shrinks over his cup, his slumped shoulders an odd contrast with the rest of his toned torso. “I believe you, Kageyama. I used to think you were the way you were because you were just as asshole, but once I grew out of my own malice a little, I started to see that there were things you couldn’t help, things that weren’t your fault. Wrong place, wrong time.”

“That was always us,” Kageyama agreed. “I used to wonder what would’ve happened if we had met at Karasuno instead of Kitagawa. You might still love me, then.” He picks up his cup and takes a long drag that can’t be comfortable in terms of heat. “I loved you for a long time after things ended.”

The plastic lid on the cup is all that keeps Kindaichi’s shaking hand from sloshing piping hot liquid onto his flesh. “You can’t just say stuff like that, you know.” He could feel his whole body shaking. “We don’t get the luxury of what-ifs. Not after everything, and not after you ended up with Shorty-kun.”

Kageyama’s fist clenches and wrinkles the sides of his cup. “Hinata and I were never together.” His teeth clench around the words. “We didn’t date in school because I was afraid what happened to you and me would happen to me and him. Then after school, we just . . . lost each other.”

It is difficult to miss the ache in Kageyama’s voice. Kindaichi feels a pang of sympathy for him for not being able to move past their rocky youthful relationship. Though he might not have thought so at the time, Kindaichi doesn’t think Kageyama deserves to be this unhappy for so long. Almost of its own accord, he reaches out a hand and places it over one of Kageyama’s.

Kageyama flinches at the contact, and Kindaichi wonders when was the last time someone had touched him in an intimate or comforting way. Considering how intently Kageyama is staring at their joined hands, Kindaichi’s belly clenches when the answer is so obvious.

“So, did you get a chance at the Olympic roster?” Kindaichi asks, deciding to give Kageyama a break from this turgid silence. “Japan made some noise in the 2020 qualifiers but didn’t make it to the actual games.”

Kageyama shakes his head. “I was only nineteen at the time. The older guys got the top berths, even though the setter they chose over me wasn’t as good as I was. Akaashi-san and I were both better, and neither of us made it on the bench.”

Now that the conversation is no longer about their broken past relationship, the conversation flows a little easier. Kageyama talks about the back problem that got him drummed out of the national team pipeline, and Kindaichi tells him about where he and Kunimi went to college and where they work now.

At this, however, Kageyama frowns. “He sounds different. Not a good different, either.”

Kindaichi pretends to sip at his coffee, even though it’s been empty for ten minutes or so. “Yeah. I don’t know what happened, but about a year into college, he just . . . changed. He used to be the one to make _me_ take care of myself and do my homework, and now he just sleeps with random strangers and wouldn’t eat if I didn’t make him.” He feels his eyes sting with tears, and he grinds his palms against his eyes to stop them before he embarrasses himself.

“I’m sorry,” Kageyama says. “He gave up on me a long time ago, but I never thought he’d give up on you. He liked you. A lot.”

“Well, yeah,” Kindaichi says, a bit confused by Kageyama’s word choice. “He’s been my best friend for ten years.”

Kageyama just shakes his head. “No, Kindaichi. I mean, he likes you the way you used to like me.”

With a snort, Kindaichi tries to drink out of his cup again and gets up and throws it away. When he returns, he replies, “That’s ridiculous. It’s never been like that.”

“It’s always been like that,” Kageyama says, and Kindaichi knows he believes what he says absolutely. “Why do you think he stopped wanting me around when we started getting interested in each other?”

Kindaichi’s mouth is hanging open. Kageyama gives him an almost pitying look, which is out of place on his stolid features. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

“Yeah,” Kindaichi says woodenly. “It would explain a lot, though. God, I am the worst friend in the world for not knowing.”

Kageyama finishes his coffee before pushing his empty cup aside. “No, you’re not. Why would you even think to look for it?” He flushes. “Not that someone _shouldn’t_ want to like you, because you look very nice and _you_ are nice and . . .”

A laugh devoid of amusement gets stuck in Kindaichi’s throat. “No, I understand. It’s just weird, thinking about my best friend like that. I can only imagine how it feels to like someone for a long time and them never know. He really must have given up if he’s willing to give _you_ of all people my number.”

Kindaichi sighs. “Thanks for telling me though. Maybe now I can actually help him before he drinks and fucks his way out of his job.”

“If there’s anything I can do . . .” Kageyama says, and Kindaichi is struck by the utter sincerity written on his face.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

The weird quiet is broken by Kageyama also tossing his cup, but he returns with an anxious expression and overactive fingers drumming on the table.

Crossing his arms, Kindaichi leans back on his cushion. “Something’s on your mind. Out with it.”

Kageyama fidgets even more than before, looking at anything and everything except Kindaichi. “Can I, um, see you again sometime?”

Kindaichi starts at the question because he feels like there is a wet blanket of awkwardness draped over their entire meeting. Yet this new Kageyama, the one who knows how to say what he feels and experiences compassion for others is one he wishes he’d known for longer.

A smile curves into place, and he says truthfully, “I’d like that.”

Kageyama’s entire face takes on a different light, the one it took when he was excited about volleyball or food he liked for as long as Kindaichi has known him, and it makes something warm trickle into his veins.

They part with a halting handshake, and Kindaichi heads home to observe Kunimi through his newfound knowledge and to wonder where this new thing with an even newer Kageyama might take him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the 30 Day Kagehina Challenge Day 23: the perks and/or downsides of communal showers.

Kunimi is slouched on the couch when Kindaichi returns home, eating the breakfast Kindaichi had prepared before he left for coffee and watching anime. He is alone and wearing nothing, with only a throw blanket draped over his midsection to preserve any modesty he might still have. Kindaichi suspects that the only reason for the fortuitous blanket placement is probably the sound of the key turning in the door, as Kunimi knows he's not a fan of public nudity.

"Where were you?" Kunimi asks past the spoon in his mouth.

"I went out for coffee," Kindaichi says vaguely.

The spoon plops from between Kunimi's lips and into his bowl. "You went out with Kageyama, didn't you?"

Ignoring the accurate statement, Kindaichi asks, "So, where is your guest for the day?"

Shrugging, Kunimi sets back into his breakfast. "Don't have one. The guys at the club have been gross lately, and I'm getting tired of girls. Too clingy, and then they end up crying all over you and bumming bus fare."

"They don't ask for it, Akira," Kindaichi grumbles, fighting the irritating balling in his gut. "I give it to them because they're human beings and don't deserve to be treated like that. If you tried not being an asshole for a change, you would know."

"That hurt, Yuutarou," Kunimi whines, though the rest of him betrays no further signs of distress. "You're supposed to be the nice one."

Well done with this conversation, Kindaichi leaves the room, firing over his shoulder, "And you're supposed to be an adult. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine."

Already ready for the day to be over, Kindaichi strips off his outfit and carefully replaces it in his wardrobe in favor of an old Seijou T-shirt and basketball shorts. Flinging himself on his bed, he contemplates Kageyama's theory about Kunimi being in love with him. Kunimi has never stricken Kindaichi as the silent, smoldering type who would sit on a secret like that for this long. He would either act on it and deal with the consequences or push it away and forget about it.

But if Kindaichi knows anything about relationships, it’s that it is damn hard to forget, especially if the object of his affection is a constant presence in his life. Judging by how long Kindaichi himself had taken to move on from a damned middle school boyfriend, maybe he and Kunimi are a match after all.

He wonders if he should just ask Kunimi about it, but his friend is already in a tremulous position mentally and emotionally; there is no telling what this would do to him. Instead, he decides to absently scroll through Facebook friend recommendations to see who else he knows and will never add.

It surprises Kindaichi when he sees Kageyama come up with Iwaizumi as a mutual friend. Curious, he clicks on the profile and is met by a photo of Kageyama in the red Japanese national team uniform, arms crossed and one hip jaunted to the side with an expression that shouted ‘do your worst.’

Kindaichi lingers over the Add Friend button for a few seconds before clicking out of the page. He doesn’t want to seem over-eager or like he’s being a stalker, but he quickly reopens the page and flips through every tab.

Most of the pictures are of his teammates, both from Karasuno and the national team. A few of them are of him with his parents, though these look old, as Kageyama can’t be more than twelve in any of them. It isn’t until he finds the very last folder, Mobile Uploads, that Kindaichi nearly falls off his bed.

It’s Kageyama’s father in a wheelchair, steered by a weary-looking mother and a son who doesn’t even try to smile. Date of upload: June 18, 2013.

That was towards the beginning of their third year of middle school, around the time when Kageyama had begun to grow short-tempered and impatient with everyone, including his boyfriend. Also known as the beginning of the end for everything good between them.

Yet Kindaichi’s memories of Kageyama’s dad are of a man with no wheelchair, but that was all the way back when they were thirteen. Something must have happened between the winter of 2012 and the date on this picture.

Now beyond curious, Kindaichi does a search for Kageyama Hideo and set the parameters for news articles and to encompass the past ten years. Most of the results are business related ones, as Kindaichi expects from someone who holds a prominent position in the Sony offices in Sendai.

What he is looking for is on the second page. A car accident in Sendai in December of 2012. One driver was killed when another fell asleep at the wheel and veered into traffic. It was late at night, so no other vehicles were involved, but the damage was enough to shut down the entire street for four hours. The driver who died was a taxi driver en route to picking up a passenger. The one who fell asleep at the wheel, the one who survived, was Kageyama Hideo, who was listed as ‘in critical condition’ at a nearby hospital.

“Holy shit,” Kindaichi murmurs.

It all crashes in on Kindaichi like a tsunami. Kageyama fighting with himself and his struggles to assimilate, while his parents are too wrapped up in dealing with this to notice or to help him. Then add worrying about his father’s health and the increased feeling of alienation from his team, and his entire world would have collapsed on top of him.

When Kindaichi realizes that he probably contributed to this by his impatience with Kageyama’s moodiness, he feels like throwing up.

He hurriedly pounds out a text message. _Can we meet again?_

The response comes only a minute later. _Sure. When is good for you?_

_Anytime tomorrow is good. Maybe even tonight, if you can._

_Tonight is okay. Where do you want to meet?_

_I’ll pick you up at yours at six, if you want. I know it’s last minute, but today got me thinking about a lot of things._

An address is the last message Kageyama sends, which his map app tells him is only a couple of kilometers away. Kindaichi memorizes the route, bookmarks it on his phone, and immediately begins his struggle with what he is going to wear.

Kindaichi nearly smacks his head on the wardrobe door when Kunimi’s voice interrupts his rushing thoughts. “You should wear your good jeans and the dark blue button-up.”

“God, you scared me,” Kindaichi huffs through ragged breaths. “Did you need something?”

Kunimi shrugs. “Details, I guess. What was he like?”

“Different,” Kindaichi answers, no question about which ‘he’ Kunimi is referring to. “Calmer. Out of volleyball, but it seems like he’s okay with it.”

“That must have been weird.” Kunimi sits on Kindaichi’s bed. “Are you mad at me for giving him your number?”

Kindaichi contemplates this question, but he finds he doesn’t have an answer without another question. “Depends on why you did it.”

There is a heavy sigh and a groan from Kunimi before he says, “Because I thought that if you saw that he hasn’t changed after this long, you might just get over whatever is keeping you from moving on with your life. You haven’t got laid in longer than I can even remember, and today was the first time you’ve gone out on purpose in months. How was I supposed to know your dumb ass would fall for him again?”

Kindaichi chooses to ignore this comment and says instead, “Did you know his dad almost died in a car accident?”

“No.” Kunimi’s response is almost a whisper. “Second year of middle school?”

“Yeah.” Kindaichi remembers something that had seemed so insignificant at the time. “Remember when he missed a week of school? The flu had been going around, so we just assumed that’s why he was gone.”

He scratches at the back of his neck and sighs before flopping on the bed next to Kunimi. “We were so horrible to him that entire time. I can’t even imagine how that felt for him to practically lose everything at once.”

Kunimi rests his head on Kindaichi’s shoulder. “You didn’t know. And if he wanted sympathy or understanding about it, he would have told you.”

Kindaichi shakes his head. “Why, so we could pity him?” He buries his face in his hands. “How could I let him down like that?”

He feels Kunimi stiffen beside him. “No, you didn’t. He acted like he did without explanation or obvious provocation. How else are you supposed to react?”

“Like a fucking person!” He whips his head to glare at Kunimi. “You know, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you care about somebody and they start acting strange. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘Did something happen?’ A few _words_ could have changed everything.”

Kunimi’s shoulders slump. His voice is barely above a whisper as he asks, “Do you still love him, Yuutarou? After all this time?”

“I didn’t before today,” Kindaichi admits with a sigh. “But he’s the only person I’ve ever felt that way about my entire life. That’s why I can’t do what you do. I’m just not built that way.”

“What about now?”

Kindaichi considers this. He meant what he said about getting over Kageyama years ago, but seeing him again has been stirring up feelings he’s aggressively shut down for the better part of a decade. If he said he didn’t know the answer, it would be the truth. He doesn’t know if he is falling back in love with Kageyama, or if this is a new thing entirely. What he is sure of, though, is that Kunimi is the last person he should be discussing this with, even though he’s the person Kindaichi wants around him the most when he’s lost or unsure. “This sucks.”

“Yeah.”

They both sit there for a while before Kindaichi’s belly begins to remind him that it’s about lunchtime. He already knows he doesn’t want to cook; he always cooks. “You want anything from the Thai place?”

When Kunimi shakes his head, Kindaichi orders enough for two and then some, anyway, because he hasn’t told Kunimi that he’ll be on his own for dinner.

Soon, his mother calls like she always does on Saturdays — her only afternoon off between her two jobs when Kindaichi is actually home. Kunimi leaves him to it, and Kindaichi swallows a lump of guilt that he is relieved. He hates not knowing what he can and cannot say.

At least he will never have to worry about that with his mother. “Hey, Mom.”

He doesn’t tell her about Kageyama or Kunimi; instead, he relishes the utter mundaneness of their conversation. They hang up when Kunimi pokes his head in the room and mentions that the food has arrived.

Kindaichi feels the urge to say something he doesn’t say nearly enough, especially when he thinks about everything that’s happened in the past few days. “I love you, Mom. I don’t tell you enough, but I really do.”

She giggles and says, “I love you, too, baby. Now go and eat your lunch.”

With a smile lingering, he hangs up the phone. He wishes he could visit her more, but their schedules don’t overlap very often for them to call, let alone to see each other. But that is a problem for a different day, he thinks as he wanders back into the kitchen for much-needed food.

He and Kunimi slouch together on the couch and watch reruns of Fullmetal Alchemist until five, when Kindaichi knows he needs to start getting ready.

As Kunimi had suggested, Kindaichi wears his best jeans and a blue button-up shirt. He has no idea what they’re going to do once he picks up Kageyama, but he reckons they can figure something out. He’s not remotely hungry, but they can hit the curry place near Kageyama’s apartment after they finish whatever it is they’re going to do because he remembers that curry is Kageyama’s favorite.

As he’s fastening and unfastening his top two buttons and deciding how he wants to leave them, he chuckles wryly as he tosses around the idea that Kageyama might have chosen his place based on its proximity to good restaurants.

When he goes back into the living room, Kunimi calls from the couch, “Untuck your shirt. You look forty.” Kindaichi complies as he adds, “And undo the first couple of buttons. It’s universal language that you’re looking for someone to undo the rest of them.”

Kindaichi flushes but does as he’s told before he scurries out the door. He doesn’t need or want any more ‘have sex with me’ advice from Kunimi. Heading out in his economical hatchback, Kindaichi follows the route he memorized until he’s outside a relatively nice apartment building. He finds the parking space designated for Kageyama’s unit and finds it empty, so he parks there. In less time than he would have liked, Kindaichi arrives at Kageyama’s front door approximately fifteen minutes early.

He debates knocking this early in case Kageyama isn’t ready yet, but in the years he’s known Kageyama, he’s never once been late or unprepared. With that, he feels much better about knocking after milling around aimlessly for five minutes.

Kageyama answers the door almost immediately, nearly hitting himself in the face as he flings it open. Kindaichi chuckles and says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Kageyama says as his face reddens. “Come in.”

After slipping his shoes off in the genkan, Kindaichi looks around and takes note of the immaculate state of the place. Just from the entryway, he doubts there is a speck of dust to find, but he doesn’t remark on it. Instead, he lets Kageyama lead him into a small living space with some cushions on the floor and a laptop sitting open on the kotatsu.

“Sorry there isn’t a sofa,” Kageyama blurts, looking truly embarrassed by this.

Kindaichi pats his arm, not knowing what else to do, and says, “It’s fine. If you live alone, why would you need one?”

Kageyama’s brow wrinkles as if he’s actually trying to answer this very rhetorical question, and Kindaichi just laughs. “Don’t hurt yourself thinking so hard, Kageyama.” Kageyama blushes at this, and Kindaichi’s belly backflips. _God, that’s cute_.

“So, what do you want to do?” Kageyama asks.

Shrugging, Kindaichi says honestly, “I don’t actually know. I was thinking we could figure something out. It’s been a while since we just, you know, hung out.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama agrees with a nod.

“Yeah.”

They stand slightly too far apart in awkward silence before Kageyama perks up. “Hey, do you want to play volleyball?”

Kindaichi brightens before he remembers something more important. “I thought you couldn’t play because of your back.”

Kageyama shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. I just couldn’t play for the national team anymore, but it doesn’t mean I can’t still play.”

“If you’re sure,” Kindaichi agrees dubiously. He doesn’t think this is a good idea at all, but the last thing he wants is to pick a fight with Kageyama. He’s had enough of that to last a lifetime.

When Kageyama nods, Kindaichi looks down at his own carefully selected attire. “I’m not, um, really dressed for it.”

“I’ll loan you something. We’re not that different in size.” Kageyama flits off to retrieve the items in question, and not knowing what to do with himself, Kindaichi settles down on one of the floor cushions and hugs his knees.

In a few minutes, Kageyama returns with a bag slung over his shoulder. “My gym has a basketball court, but it’s always dead on Saturday nights. There’s a volleyball net to set up.”

Kindaichi hums in acknowledgement and they leave the apartment. Kageyama gives him directions to the gym, which doesn’t go well because he usually walks there and doesn’t pay any heed to one-way streets. Finally, Kindaichi pulls off to the side of the road, Googles the name of the gym, and pulls up directions from there.

Glancing over, he can tell that Kageyama is embarrassed, but Kindaichi merely says to nothing in particular, “Sendai is really hard to get used to. The streets are not as well laid out as in Tokyo. That’s why I use GPS to find pretty much everything but work.”

At this, the tension leeches out of Kageyama. They don’t really speak in the ten minute drive other than Kageyama pointing out the nearest parking structure to the gym. Kindaichi pays for parking, and in turn, Kageyama pays for Kindaichi’s guest pass.

Looking around, Kindaichi knows this is a place he wouldn’t be able to set foot into if he didn’t know Kageyama. There was not a spare ounce of fat on a single one of the few people working out. He knows this is a professional gym when there are fewer elliptical machines than treadmills, and even fewer of them than weight benches. Kageyama’s transformed body seems like a natural product of a place like this.

They change with their backs to each other and start stretching. Kindaichi is surprised how easily they fall into partner stretching, even if his body protests the unusual force put on his limbs. Though Kindaichi works out on his own, it’s been years since he’s actually played or had someone rack his arm almost completely behind his back.

But Kageyama’s muscles are like rubber bands, bending obediently to every stretch and pull. He even groans as if in relief when Kindaichi pushes his extended arms together behind his back. Kindaichi decides to ignore that sound because he remembers the last time he heard it and doesn’t want to think about that at all while wearing thin cotton shorts.

Finally they step onto the court, with Kageyama wearing plain black shorts and a white T-shirt, with Kindaichi in a blue tee and similar black shorts and borrowed kneepads bunched around his ankles. The shoes are a bit snug, but they fit well enough that he can still feel his toes.

If Kindaichi learns anything while they do a few pepper drills, it’s that as much as Kageyama has improved every aspect of his game, Kindaichi is that much worse. He hasn’t played since high school, and it shows. His receives cannot stand up to the force of Kageyama’s hits, and as yet another ball careens off into no man’s land, he swears, “Damn it.”

Kageyama frowns. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I thought you still played.”

Kindaichi shakes his head. “I haven’t played since high school. I didn’t make the team in college, and between trying not to fail my classes and working to keep food in the house, I never got back into it.”

Eyes darkening like thunderclouds, Kageyama’s face twists into an angry frown. “They shouldn’t have cut you. You were really good, especially your last year. No one in Miyagi had a cross-spike like yours, including Goshiki from Shiratorizawa.”

Blushing at the compliment, Kindaichi doesn’t know how to reply other than, “Um, thanks.”

Head tilting, Kageyama’s brows knit. “For what?”

At this, Kindaichi can’t help but laugh. “You might have changed a lot, but you also haven’t changed at all.”

Kageyama doesn’t react like he understands this statement, as Kindaichi figured he wouldn’t, but he doesn’t say as much. They put up the net and start doing spiking drills. Kageyama lobs the ball high in the air to Kindaichi, who returns it to Kageyama (with progressively more success than not) for a set and then a spike.

Kindaichi misses the first few spikes due to poor timing on his part, but when one lands squarely in his palm and plummet to the floor like a little comet, he feels a rush of something he doesn’t realize he’s missed so badly until now.

"That was awesome," Kindaichi mutters to his stinging palm.

"The first two were my fault," Kageyama says abruptly. Kindaichi turns and looks at him curiously. "I forgot that you have a slower run-up and didn't adjust."

It's difficult for Kindaichi not to smile at the idea of Kageyama purposely adjusting for him. He never thought he'd see it on his own side of the net, but he's glad he does. What Hinata had said to Kageyama in that first Spring High is much more in-character now that he has first-hand experience with the transformation that his tiny partner has wrought.

With a chortle, Kindaichi says, "Sometimes, I forget how good you are."

They goof around with the ball for another full hour before Kindaichi surrenders to the pain in his lungs."Yeah, I think I'm done for the night." He laces his fingers behind his head and tries in vain to catch his breath. Kageyama hasn't even broken a sweat.

"I have to start doing more cardio or I won't survive another workout like that," he admits as they begin packing up the volleyball equipment. "You're not even breathing hard. Asshole."

Kageyama appears to think heavily before he says, "If you want to work out with me, I can help you get back into game shape. You're still good, so you could easily get onto a rec team. The first time we played the Karasuno Neighborhood Association team, they beat us in straight sets."

"I might just take you up on that," Kindaichi says as they head off to the locker room.

As Kageyama had predicted, the room is vacant. Whoever had been lurking in the weight room must have left already, because Kindaichi doesn't even see gym bags on the floor other than Kageyama's. Kageyama tosses him a towel from his bag and takes one out for himself. The shower area is open - no stalls, with just a line of shower heads protruding from the tiled wall.

Kindaichi doesn't have an objection to open showers, per se, but the mere idea reminds him sharply of the last time he bared anything around Kageyama. It had resulted in feverish, very regrettable sex in a bathroom at the Spring High. Whatever pleasure they had found was washed out by the feeling of self-hatred that had plagued Kindaichi for years after. It was also the last time he had allowed himself to be with anyone.

Oblivious to the myriad of doubt bubbling up in Kindaichi, Kageyama turns on one of the showers, slides off his clothing, and steps into the steaming stream. Kindaichi can't remember to breathe as he watches Kageyama's lithe muscles play under the water, from broad shoulder to sculpted thighs. It takes all the willpower he possesses to look away and turn on his own shower. He hopes that Kageyama doesn't notice his creepy staring.

Once he gets into the shower, Kindaichi is better able to focus on something other than Kageyama's perfect ass. The water pressure is incredible and the soap in the dispenser smells like pineapple.

Kageyama soon finishes, and Kindaichi does, as well, with the hope that his slightly too-soft middle goes unnoticed. Making a point of not looking anywhere near Kageyama, Kindaichi quickly changes into his own clothes and they are ready to go.

When they're out the door, Kindaichi says, "There's a curry place near your apartment, if you're hungry at all. You could build a shrine to their pork curry."

The closest thing Kindaichi’s ever seen to a smile from Kageyama blossoms in front of him. His eyes light up, and it is the cutest thing that Kindaichi swears his teeth might fall out as he says, “C’mon. My treat.”

They go back to Kageyama’s place and park the car, deciding to take advantage of the balmy night and walk to the restaurant. Kindaichi knows this is probably the best chance he has to bring up what has been eating at him since that afternoon.

“Kageyama, why didn’t you ever tell me what happened with your dad?”

Kageyama stops walking mid-stride, and his face freezes in a stoic expression before his chin droops almost to his chest. “How did you know?”

Kindaichi explains how he had come by this information as Kageyama silently listens. After he finishes, Kageyama nods. “That’s most of it. Once my dad was stable enough to return to work, my mother became his chauffeur, his personal assistant, his nurse, his everything. I barely saw either of them. Not until recently.”

Something clenches in Kindaichi’s chest, and he knows he is about a breath away from crying. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do, so he reaches out and collects Kageyama in his arms. Kageyama is stiff and unpliant, but Kindaichi buries his face in Kageyama’s hair and rocks back and forth.

Once he is collected enough, Kindaichi murmurs, “I wish I could go back and do so many things differently. You needed me so much, and I didn’t give you anything. God, I am so sorry.”

“I wanted to tell you,” Kageyama sniffs into Kindaichi’s shoulder. “I just didn’t know how.”

Kindaichi pulls back and puts his hands on Kageyama’s shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I want you to know,” he says with no second thoughts at all, “that you can tell me anything. We screwed up before, I know, but we’re both different people now. I’ll always care about you, though. That’s never changed.”

Kageyama stares up at him. “I thought you hated me.”

Shaking his head, Kindaichi admits, “I hated that you still had so much power over me, even after things ended between us. I resented you, and I might have even thought I hated you, but I never really did. I’ve made my peace with it finally.”

Blushing, Kageyama looks away. “That must have been embarrassing to say all at once.”

With a chuckle, Kindaichi hunches his shoulders to try to hide his own reddening cheeks. “A little.”

Kindaichi offers a small smile and links his arm with Kageyama’s. “Now we definitely need curry.”

Kageyama takes the extended arm as if it will be rescinded at any moment, but once their elbows are intertwined, a look of relief crosses his face. Kindaichi’s smile widens just a little more.

Dinner is quiet, but the silence isn’t strained as Kindaichi just watches Kageyama’s hands. For as long as he can remember, Kageyama has been defter with chopsticks than anyone else he’s ever known. Once a teammate of theirs dared Kageyama to pick up a grain of rice lengthwise, and he did it. Inversely, Kindaichi defaults to cutlery more often than not both out of habit with Kunimi and because just making food is more effort than he’s willing to expend.

They leave the same way they arrived: arms linked as they lean into each other. Kindaichi could sigh at how perfect this feels. This is the Kageyama he’s always wanted to know, the one he hadn’t been sure existed until this day. Sweet, unsure, bashful Kageyama. He knows he’s falling for this idiot again, but after all this time and how much effort he’s put into doing the opposite, Kindaichi can’t be bothered to fighting it anymore.

He is slowly, stupidly falling in love with Kageyama Tobio again.

When they arrive back at Kageyama’s apartment, Kindaichi pauses at the door. He bounces on the tips of his toes while he desperately tries to discern whether he is being invited in or if he should leave.

Whether Kageyama cottons on to this or not is a mystery, but he opens the door and gestures inside. Kindaichi follows him, grateful that he doesn’t have to decipher dating code for what is and isn’t proper etiquette for a second date when he isn’t even sure if this is a date or not.

So they sit cross-legged on the floor cushions while facing each other. Kageyama is watching him closely, and Kindaichi wants to shrink into himself because that look can mean a variety of things when it comes to Kageyama.

“I like your hair,” Kageyama finally says.

Kindaichi nearly shudders in relief. “Oh, um, Kunimi told me I was too old for hair gel when we left college, and he was right. I like it this way. Much less maintenance.”

Kageyama scratches the back of his neck. “I always wondered how you got it to stick up like that. I always wanted to touch it, just to see what it was like, but I didn’t want to ruin it.”

With a laugh, Kindaichi fluffs his hair with his fingers until it is a frizzy ball of fluff covering most of his face. But when Kageyama’s slender fingers start at his hairline and course back through his locks, the laughter dies and Kindaichi shivers. Kageyama’s hand only stills for a moment before he leans forward, cups the back of Kindaichi’s head, and lowers his lips.

If there is anything that Kindaichi will never forget about his previous time with Kageyama, it is the urgency and the fervor of everything. Every kiss, every touch, every act of pleasure was lathered with thirst. However, as he drinks in the light play of Kageyama’s lips on his, Kindaichi doesn’t feel that urge to rush at all. They are not competing, not striving for some far-off goal they must sprint to reach; it is a lazy, meandering stroll to nowhere in particular.

What surprises him the most is Kageyama, who is slowly, patiently stoking the fire in Kindaichi’s belly with soft caresses and tiny noises that he selfishly wants to make sure no one else will ever hear but him.

Gradually, they drift downward until Kageyama is sprawled out on Kindaichi’s chest. From here, he begins trailing kisses down Kindaichi’s jawline and neck until he settles in just below the collar of his shirt. He gives a soft bite, which makes Kindaichi moan loudly.

Thoughts of lazy kisses dissolve as Kindaichi thrusts his hands up Kageyama’s shirt to drag his nails over the sculpted skin of his torso. The growl that comes from Kageyama burns Kindaichi’s senses, and with a roar of his own, he pushes Kageyama off of him and then underneath him and devours every spare inch of exposed flesh.

Garments find their way into a pile next to them until they are naked and close to each other for the second time that day, but Kindaichi can barely even remember his own name as his eyes rake over the breathtaking expanse of skin waiting for him.

“I-I want you,” Kindaichi stammers, his voice husky and saturated with need.

Kageyama softly strokes Kindaichi’s cheek. “I just wanted to make sure you’re really here.” He swipes at his eyes with his hand. “So many times, I dreamed of this, but I woke up alone. Always alone.”

Vision blurring with the effort not to savage Kageyama’s body, Kindaichi gasps a reply neither of them understand as they coax each other into oblivion as if nothing had ever stood between them.

Sated and sweating, they fall asleep curled into one another until the hard vibration of Kindaichi’s phone tears him out of warm and very illicit dream.

“Hello?” he yawns, too tired to see the caller ID properly.

Kageyama stirs next to him, his eyes fluttering open, unfocused as they regard Kindaichi.

“Is this Kindaichi Yuutarou?”

The voice is unfamiliar, and when he checks the time on his phone, he notices it is past midnight. His nerves rattling him awake as he answers, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“This is Tohoku University Hospital, and we’re calling on behalf of a Kunimi Akira.”

Suddenly wide awake, Kindaichi bolts upright. “Is he okay?”

The voice on the other end of the line sighs. “Kunimi-kun is currently in our intensive care unit. He was struck by a vehicle earlier tonight. His family cannot be reached, and you were listed as his emergency contact from a previous visit.”

Kindaichi drops his phone. Kageyama, now awake, touches his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Burying his fingers roughly in his hair, Kindaichi doesn’t bother swiping at the tears on his cheeks. He knows he isn’t the smartest guy, but even he doesn’t miss the parallel between Kunimi’s longtime torch he has carried for Kindaichi and the latter having two dates in one day with the guy Kunimi probably hates the most. Coupled with Kunimi’s lack of inhibition while drunk, one startling, disturbing conclusion pushes its way to the forefront of Kindaichi’s mind.

“Kunimi’s in the hospital. I . . . I think he tried to kill himself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this to spiral into any more chapters. One more, and that's it. Scouts honor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for the 30 Day Kagehina Challenge Day 26: phone call.

Kageyama walks to the hospital with Kindaichi, who doesn’t trust himself to drive. Despite being sleepy when the call came in, both of them are very much awake. Kindaichi doesn’t speak because he’s sure if he does, he might throw up.

Instead, his head aches with the amount of internal interrogation going on. How could he live with Kunimi for as long as he has and _not_ know how his best friend in the whole world felt about him? And how does Kageyama, the most emotionally oblivious person he knows, figure this out when Kindaichi has had a front row seat to the evidence?

“Stop it,” Kageyama says suddenly, and Kindaichi physically halts in the middle of a crosswalk.

With a shake of his head, Kageyama drags Kindaichi along. Once they are clear of the street, Kageyama repeats, “Stop it.”

Kindaichi decides that Kageyama does not, indeed, read minds and cannot possibly know his thoughts, so he asks, “Stop what?”

“I can see it on your face, Kindaichi. You’re upset because you didn’t know, and that somehow makes it your fault.” Kageyama’s eyes darken. “Don’t you dare. You can’t be responsible for what he does. He’s an adult, and it isn’t like you weren’t there if he wanted to talk to you.”

A growl of frustration boils in Kindaichi’s throat. “I should’ve known! I thought I was doing the right thing for him by making sure he eats and taking care of the people he brings home to sleep with so he doesn’t have to. Why don’t people just _say_ something when they have feelings?”

“Because needing someone like that can make you feel weak and pathetic when it’s one-sided,” Kageyama answers.

Kindaichi stares at him. “When did you figure so much out?”

Kageyama sighs. “Hinata taught me how to think about other people more, and how to ask for things when I need them. He made me say what I was thinking when I wasn’t angry so I could figure out what _made_ me feel so angry all the time.”

It is impossible for Kindaichi to resist taking Kageyama’s hand in his. Kageyama blushes but doesn’t let go.

He has always appreciated Kageyama’s hands. For a bulk of his life, Kageyama’s hands have been an icon of power and skill, even when those were used opposite him in a match or in one of their many arguments before they stopped dating. But now they are a source of comfort when Kindaichi can’t imagine conjuring such a feeling on his own.

“What do I even say to him?” he gasps, restraining the urge to gag.

Kageyama’s thumb strokes the side of Kindaichi’s hand. “Talk to him the way you know him, not how he is now. It’s the person you know, so talk to that Kunimi instead.”

"Show off," Kindaichi mutters. When Kageyama's ears perk as if he missed what was said, Kindaichi says, "Never mind."

A thousand things collide in Kindaichi's mind when he is no longer distracted by the mindless banter with Kageyama. Should he call Kunimi's mother? Should he have returned home for any relevant information regarding Kunimi's medical history or whatever the hospital might need? Or, the darkest of all of them, would Kunimi even want to see him?

They arrive a few minutes later, and Kindaichi debates turning around right there, but Kageyama grips his arm and drags him through the door. The reception desk is right inside the entrance, and without preamble, Kageyama barks, "Kunimi Akira."

The receptionist doles out a room number, but as they're walking towards the elevators, she calls out, "If you would be able to help fill in the gaps in his paperwork at all, it would be greatly appreciated."

"Of course," Kageyama replies when Kindaichi cannot wrap his brain around the information.

As directed, they proceed to the second floor intensive care unit, Room 232. There is little buzz in the area, which gives Kindaichi hope that Kunimi's condition is not dire. Kageyama squeezes his hand and says, "I'll be right here if you need anything."

Kindaichi starts. "You're not coming?"

Kageyama shakes his head. "I don't think he wants to see me."

Not able to refute that, Kindaichi settles for stealing a quick kiss before opening the door to Kunimi's room. His heart skids to a halt when he lays eyes on his best friend's pallid, still form. Tubes and wires cover more of his bare skin than not, and the plaster cast covering his left leg clearly protrudes from the blanket carelessly draped over him. Kindaichi bites his lip and tugs the blanket straight.

"Oh, Akira, what have you done?"

A weak chuckle fights to escape Kunimi's mouth. "Don't be so melodramatic, Yuutarou," he wheezes.

Kindaichi jolts in surprise. “You’re awake? I thought you’d be out, considering how much pain you’re probably in.”

Kunimi snorts. “They couldn’t give me a lot. I was too drunk.” He groans. “Still am, I think.”

Frowning, Kindaichi chides, “This isn’t a joke, Kunimi. You could’ve died, and you don’t care at all, do you?”

“Kindaichi . . .” Kunimi sighs. “It wasn’t like that. It was an accident. Mostly.”

Despite his desire to demand an explanation for that comment, Kindaichi doesn’t give into it. Instead, he pulls the chair butted up against the wall over to the bed side and sits. He reaches out to close a hand over Kunimi’s, but Kunimi jerks it away like his touch burned.

With a smile that looks more like a wince than anything, Kunimi moans and says, “I’m sorry, Yuutarou. I can’t do it anymore.”

Kindaichi doesn’t need to ask what ‘this’ is.

“I can’t spend the next ten years still waiting for something I won’t ever have.” Kunimi’s face crumples and he turns to his side as much as he is able with the equipment strapped to his entire body. “You can hit me with a thousand cars, but nothing will ever hurt more than knowing that he’s probably sitting outside this room right now because he loves you.”

Tears prickle in Kindaichi’s eyes, but he can’t muster the strength to fight them when his best friend, the person who has dragged him through every dumb things he’s ever done or said for over a decade, has given up on him. “Please tell me what I’m supposed to say. I hate myself for doing this to you, and I won’t do it again, even if it kills me.”

Kunimi scoffs. “Yeah, you will. Just knowing it took you ten years to figure out I’m in love with you means you’ll always be able to hurt me. Even if you don’t mean to.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to talk to Kageyama for a minute. Alone.”

Kindaichi isn’t sure how to respond except to obey. “Okay.”

Out in the hallway, Kageyama is mindlessly flipping through his Facebook feed on his phone. He looks up when he notices a shadow over him. “Is he going to be okay?”

Not certain how to answer this question, either, Kindaichi merely says, “He wants to talk to you alone.”

Kageyama’s face drains of color. “Are you sure it isn’t too many drugs?”

Kindaichi laughs, although it sounds pained even to his own ears. “No, he’s thinking clearly considering. I don’t know what he wants to say, so um . . . enter at your own risk, I suppose.” He frowns and scratches at the nape of his neck.

But Kageyama just nods and marches into the room like a man on a mission. After a minute, there is no shouting, which Kindaichi takes as a good sign. Finally, after ten minutes of nothing but regular hospital traffic to occupy him, Kindaichi is relieved to see Kageyama walk out unharmed and in decent spirits.

“He didn’t threaten to kill you, did he?” Kindaichi asked, his earnestness a little too acute.

Kageyama shakes his head. “No. Mostly, he talked and I listened. It was a good talk, one we needed to have.”

Relieved but more curious than anything, Kindaichi wondered out loud, “Could you tell me what he said, or is it a man-to-man secret thing?”

Shrugging, Kageyama says, “I don’t know what that means, but I’ll tell you later. For now, though, he wants to talk to you again.”

Kindaichi nods and goes back into the room, where Kunimi is swearing as he tries to sit himself up. “Here, let me help you.”

“Stop it, Yuutarou,” Kunimi hisses. “I’m fine!”

“Damn it, Akira, just calm down and let me be your friend for one fucking minute!”

When Kunimi acquiesces, Kindaichi gently hoists up Kunimi’s torso before building a mountain of pillows behind him and then settling him down. The sigh of relief from Kunimi gives Kindaichi the paltry satisfaction of knowing he has done at least one thing in the past ten years that hasn’t stabbed out Kunimi’s heart.

Sinking back into the chair, Kindaichi doesn’t even try not to cry anymore. He quietly sobs in the chair while Kunimi stares straight ahead. Finally, he breaks the silence by saying, “I really didn’t want to kill myself in the end.”

This does nothing to slake the ache in Kindaichi’s very core.

“I was way too drunk and I saw a guy who looked a lot like you. Maybe he didn’t; I don’t know. I was pretty plastered. But just as I was about to see if I could score a quick lay I’d regret tomorrow, some other guy shows up and they were clearly in love. That’s when I realized that I’d never have that with you, and I couldn’t imagine going the rest of my life knowing that.

“So I stumbled outside, and I was going to drag my dumb ass in front of the nearest car going fast enough to fuck me up. But right as I was standing in the headlights, something occurred to me.

‘If I died and you thought it was because of you, you’d break things off with Kageyama for good. And you’d never be happy because you’ve loved him forever and probably always will. I can’t take that away from you; I care too much about you.”

Kindaichi listens to all of this in silence, only moving to lean inwards when Kunimi’s voice gets too raspy and out of breath to keep a steady tone. When he finishes, his head lolls to the side as he struggles to take back some of the oxygen he overzealously spent.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Kunimi says after his ragged breathing evens out, “when they let me out of here, I’m going to move back in with my parents. I’m sorry to put you in a money crunch with the rent, but I hope you understand.”

“Yeah,” Kindaichi agrees with a nod. “It’ll be okay. I just want you to be all right, so do what you have to do.” He bites back a choked sob and adds, “Just please don’t die.”

Kunimi coughs out a laugh. “So dramatic.”

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Kindaichi gets up to leave. Kageyama shoots to his feet to look over Kindaichi, as if he were coming back from combat and not the most uncomfortable conversation he’s ever had in his life. Waving a hand, Kindaichi says, “C’mon. Knock it off.”

Instead, Kageyama shoves his fingers in his hair until it stands up, much lick Kindaichi’s old preferred haircut, and mimics, “C’mon. Knock it off.”

Kindaichi laughs out loud, wheezing for air at Kageyama’s terrible attempt copying his voice. “God, I love you.”

Kageyama stills at this, eyes wide as he stares at Kindaichi. “Y-you do?”

Only then does Kindaichi realize what he just said and processes the ease with which the words had come to him. “Yeah, I do,” he says truthfully, and with a conviction about that particular emotion he hasn’t felt for as long as he can remember. “I love you.”

But then he frowns. “Does that mean I have to call you Tobio-chan? I’m pretty sure Oikawa-san ruined that for me, to be honest.”

When Kageyama shudders in response, Kindaichi allows a lazy half-smile to drift across his face. He does love Kageyama; he loves _this_ Kageyama, the adult version of the Kageyama he loved when he was younger and before everything changed.

A sense of peace washes over him as he basks in this realization. His life will change forever because of it, so as he does every time something drastically alters everything he knows, Kindaichi says, “Do you mind sticking around here for a bit? I need to make a phone call.”

Kageyama nods, and Kindaichi brushes a tender kiss to his cheek. “Be right back.”

Kindaichi finds a stairwell near the elevator and sits down on the steps as he presses his speed-dial-number-one contact. When the other end crackles to life, a bleary voice says, “Hello?”

“Hey, Mom.”

“Oh.” Kindaichi’s mother yawns heavily. “Is everything all right?”

“Sort of,” he says before relaying his entire day to her, leaving most of the details more or less intact. They’re both adults and can handle that sort of thing. At least, he hopes so.

Once he finishes, she sighs heavily. “Oh, Yuu-chan, you really never knew how Kunimi-kun felt about you?” He can almost picture her shaking her head. “I know boys are dumb, but sweetheart . . . at least it’s all figured out.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Akira’s going to move out because he figures it isn’t healthy to pine over me _and_ have to look at me every day. I can’t say I blame him.”

“So, I assume that this is the same Kageyama-kun that Kunimi-kun told me about after your last middle school match?”

Kindaichi winces. “I didn’t know you knew about us.”

“Well, Kunimi-kun just said you were friends. I’m assuming you were together then, too.”

“Yeah, we were. Almost two years by that point, but I liked him from almost the first day of school.”

She laughs. “I’m just relieved it didn’t take you this long to figure out how utterly gay you are, sweetheart.”

Kindaichi turns beet red. ” _Mom!_ ”

 

* * *

 

Kindaichi fills out the rest of Kunimi’s admission papers, his odd assortment of knowledge of his friend proving highly useful to medical personnel. Then he and Kageyama start the long trek home.

They make it an entire city block in silence before Kageyama blurts, “I lied to you earlier.”

The meaning of this statement shrouded in many things, Kindaichi asks warily, “About what?”

Kageyama clenches his fists and stops walking. “I wasn’t released from the national team. I quit.”

Surprise doesn’t begin to encompass how Kindaichi reads this situation. He can’t think of anything that Kageyama loves more than volleyball, but for him to quit, all he can think of is, “Why?”

“My dad isn’t doing well,” Kageyama admits. “His legs aren’t getting better like the doctors said they would, and he’s almost in too much pain to go to work anymore. His work is his life.

“My mom wanted me to live closer so my dad could see me more and so I could help her take care of him.”

Kindaichi nods. “She’s been taking care of him for ten years. It must be hard.”

“It is,” Kageyama agrees. “She only sleeps about six hours a night because she has to stay up and get ready for the next day after he goes to bed, and she gets up earlier than him to make sure he can take a shower without hurting himself.” Kageyama’s head droops. “I should’ve been there the entire time.”

The guilt in Kageyama’s voice is the last straw for Kindaichi. “No.” When Kageyama’s gaze shoots up to meet his own, he crosses his arms and says, “You deserved to live your dream. If I had that opportunity and I quit for her, my mom would kick my ass.”

Kageyama smiles wanly. “I don’t mind, though. I wasn’t going to make the Olympic roster, and I would’ve washed out before the next ones came around, anyway. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop playing; I’ll just do it for fun instead of making it my life.”

Kindaichi huffs. “I never thought I’d live to hear you say that, Kageyama.”

“I have you. What else do I really need?”

Both of their cheeks flame at this, but Kindaichi relishes it nonetheless. With a contented sigh, he laces his fingers with Kageyama’s and secretly enjoys the light swinging motion Kageyama is doing without realizing it.

Things aren’t perfect and probably never will be, but they’re leering dangerously towards all right. And Kindaichi thinks, _It’s about time._


End file.
